Evelyn
by Perfection-Addict
Summary: Damon and Stefan neglect to mention that they have a sister, but for good reason. When she unexpectedly comes back into their lives, drama inevitably ensues. Not to mention she catches the rather curious eye of an Original someone...or someones. Begins the night of the Mikaelson Ball.
1. Prologue

Prologue

"Who is this?" Elena took it gently between her fingers, raising it before her to introduce it to the light of the setting sun. Careful not to damage the thin photograph, she used her thumb to slowly rub away any dust that impaired her view of the woman. "Stefan?" She called, a little louder this time, allowing her voice to leave the room but willing her eyes to stay trained on the young, _beautiful_ woman. Dark lips, eyes and never-ending hair were merely the product of the condition of the photo: black and white and pocket-sized. Yet there was something in or about her face that made her a truly radiant sight to behold. Perhaps it was the structured softness of her countenance or the gentle upturn of her lips or maybe it was the playful glint that shone in her eyes.

"Evelyn." Elena froze, a strike of guilt surged through her for having grasped onto a memory; for having peered into a world in which she was not welcome. She spun around quickly, causing the skirt of her dress to twirl before returning to pool at her feet. Damon.

"Sorry, I was just–"

"Snooping." His voice was laced with the usual snarky undertone but his eyes told a different, somber story, focused on the picture but blank as if behind them, his mind was in another place.

"Damon, who is she?" He plucked the photograph from between her fingertips, continuing to stare at it in an intimate manner, as if he and the woman shared a deep, dark secret.

"Evelyn Salvatore." Only when he uttered the surname did he look up at an open-mouthed Elena, whose mind was evidently at work, trying to decipher exactly what that meant.

"Salvatore?" she questioned, almost sure she knew the answer to what she was asking.

"Salvatore. As in little sister Salvatore."

"But you never…Stefan never said–"

"Stefan doesn't like to think of her, let alone say anything about her," he paused, only to gaze at the photograph once more. "She disappeared the night of our mother's funeral; there one moment, gone the next. The last time we saw her she was running to her room, sobbing uncontrollably." He was gone again. His mind was in 1858, reliving the night he lost the two women in his life.

"Damon I–"

"Don't," He squeezed his eyes shut. "Stefan was shattered; I didn't think a boy that young could ever recover from such a thing. But he did and part of that's because he doesn't think or talk about it. So just…just leave it be, Elena." From the way his stare drove into her, it was evident that Stefan wasn't the only one who was shattered. She nodded but couldn't help but ask:

"How old was she?"

"Eighteen." A thick silence followed, only broken by the sound of the front door opening and Stefan's deep voice resonating throughout the house.

"The car's running. Wouldn't want to keep the Mikaelsons waiting."


	2. Homecoming

**Very Important: I have decided to exclude Klaus and Caroline's previous interactions. Therefore, in this story, Klaus never asked Tyler to bite her; never healed her with his blood and never personally invited her to the Mikaelson Ball. I'm also aware that at this time Elena, Stefan and Damon were undergoing some relationship problems. Yet, for now, their storyline is rather neutral as I've disregarded what happened on the show during this period of time. This just makes it a lot easier for me to create the story I envision. Thank you for understanding. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries or any of its characters (the CW does as does L. J. Smith).**

* * *

Chapter 1: Homecoming

"It's good to be back home," I commented, using the pad of my thumb to wipe away the thick residue that covered my bottom lip. The woman stared back at me but her mouth remained firmly shut. "Well that's a bit rude. Don't you know it's polite to participate in small talk? Especially when you've only just met someone. My, oh, my, what would your mother think; I bet she'd be awfully disappointed in you." Her eyes widened; her breath hitched; her pulse quickened ever so. But speak she did not. I let my lips stretch into a warm smile, scrunching my nose and hunching my shoulders before tapping her cheek. Then, after letting my veins darken and fangs protrude, I bit into her shoulder once again.

The moment she went limp in my arms and her veins could offer not a drop more, I took her face between my hands and brought her to eye level.

"Oh that's right. I compelled you not to make a sound," I cooed, letting a giggle escape before tearing her head right off her neck. I threw it behind me, hearing it hit the bottom of the empty dumpster with a resonating _thud_, then proceeded out of the alleyway and into the street. "Did you miss me, Mystic Falls?"

* * *

"Where is everyone?" I pushed my forearm harder into his neck; he sputtered and gasped, his face turning an interesting shade of pink. "Well?!" He tapped at my arm weakly but in an urgent manner, his face darkening to a crimson. I pulled back just enough so that he could speak and after a few rather melodramatic breaths he did.

"The Mikaelsons. The Mikaelsons are having a party," he managed to get out. Of course, the night of my grand return home, all of the town's residents were at some stiff party, grouped together and inaccessible. I gazed into his eyes, focusing on his large pupils.

"Give me your invitation," I compelled.

"I don't have one I swear!" he insisted, his eyes brimmed with tears. Pathetic.

"Well you're useless, aren't you?" I pulled myself off of him, letting him drop to the pavement. "And apparently a bore at parties."

I continued my way through the ghost town, the _click_ of boots as they hit the sidewalk only competing with the muffled _thump_ of a nearby restaurant's music.

"The Mystic Grill," I read. "How cute."

It was evident, upon entering the building, that business was slow that night. It seemed most people preferred caviar and champagne to burgers and beer. I lingered at the doorway prepared to snack on the two men seated at the bar when, lo and behold, a young woman in a strapless red ball gown passed by me. Quickly forgetting the men, I followed the seemingly distressed girl to the washroom to find her entranced by the mirror, patting at her face and smoothing her hair.

"Wow, you look gorgeous!" I gushed, pushing my hands against my chest enthusiastically, practically choking on the sweetness of my tone. She turned around immediately, gripping onto the counter behind her.

"You really think so?" She smoothed the skirt of her dress, which looked silky to the touch, before meeting my gaze.

"Of course," I vowed, moving towards the other sink, pretending to examine my reflection in the mirror. "Headed somewhere special?"

"Yes, a ball actually. I just came in here to touch up my hair and makeup. I'm so nervous I could die."

"Oh don't say such things, sweetheart!" I laughed, hitting at her arm lightly. "You don't need to die." I grabbed both her shoulders and pushed her against the stone wall. "Just give me your invitation," I compelled. She stuck her hand down the front of her strapless dress, pulling out a small white card, and handed it to me. "Smart hiding place. Now take off your dress and shoes…quickly."

She stripped in a matter of moments, leaving her garments in a mound before me, then merely stood there as if waiting for further instruction.

"Now run along." She gaped at me, then at her scantily clad self, before rushing into the nearest stall and locking the door behind her. I stepped into the dress, shimmying it all the way up my body before recognizing a slight problem. I banged on the stall behind me; the one that held the practically naked girl.

"Knock, knock. I need you to come out here and zip me up." She did as I commanded before scurrying back. "You're such a doll," I called, slipping on the nude heels. "Oh, you're a size seven aren't you? I'm an eight but I think my toes can handle it. I've definitely endured worse."

Utilizing the contents of her makeup bag, which were poured out over the counter, I touched myself up then ruffled my long curls for good measure.

"You, my dear, have been ever so kind," I insisted, loud enough so that she could hear. "Have a magical night." And with that, I was off.

* * *

Before me stood a creamy manor, consisting of sharp edges; large, square windows and a towering French door. The trees before it were wrapped in strings of warm light, echoing the glow that came from within the house. I used the heels of my palms to smooth the figure-hugging satin bodice, then ran my fingertips through the pleated skirt that pushed out at my waist and fell to the floor. Fortunately, the woman was around my size but I was, evidently, a bit bustier as the sweetheart neckline kissed my chest fiercely.

It was time to make my grand entrance.

I wrapped each fist around a cast iron door handle, smiling to myself before pushing forward to reveal a room full of people and of utter silence. The gentle _knock_ of the heavy doors against the interior wall resounded throughout the high-ceilinged room, causing every last soul to turn away from the grand staircase and towards myself. I looked to the stairs, which held a handful of well-dressed, beautiful creatures; all of which were staring at me. One, a man with golden hair and a white bowtie, ever so intently; as if closely studying each and every detail of my appearance. I drew my gaze away and focused back on the soundless crowd gathered at the foot of the staircase; waiting expectantly for me to do something…anything.

For most, this situation would bring about great anxiety, cause them to panic even. One might feel embarrassed for having caused a scene or bashful under the stare of so many strangers. See that was the best part about having my humanity turned off: I didn't feel a thing.

* * *

**Thank you so much to all those who have read, favourited, followed and commented on this story. As for whether or not Evelyn is Damon's twin...you'll find out soon enough :) I appreciate feedback and predictions so keep the comments coming! **


	3. Everything

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries or any of its characters (the CW does as does L. J. Smith).**

* * *

Chapter 2: Everything

_Previously..._

_The gentle knock of the heavy doors against the interior wall resounded throughout the high-ceilinged room, causing every last soul to turn away from the grand staircase and towards myself. I looked to the stairs, which held a handful of well-dressed, beautiful creatures; all of which were staring at me. One, a man with golden hair and a white bowtie, ever so intently; as if closely studying each and every detail of my appearance. I drew my gaze away and focused back on the soundless crowd gathered at the foot of the staircase; waiting expectantly for me to do something…anything._

_For most, this situation would bring about great anxiety, cause them to panic even. One might feel embarrassed for having caused a scene or bashful under the stare of so many strangers. See that was the best part about having my humanity turned off: I didn't feel a thing._

* * *

"…so thank you, all of you, for joining us. Please have yourselves a wonderful night," announced one of the men on the staircase, his voice breaking the silence and attracting the attention of those in the room. With his final word, he shifted his gaze towards me; his eyes questioning but his stance, much like his tone, cool and composed. I watched as he made his way down the stairway, which was lighted by a number of small bulbs, his impeccably arranged dark hair refusing to move even as he did.

I was completely and utterly aware that I should have been hit with a wave of sweet relief, as that man had saved me from being the centre of, truly unwanted, attention. Yet, I was entirely indifferent and far from being grateful.

The room was now alive with delight; teeming with a variety of exuberant people; conversing, laughing, some even beginning to dance. I strode through the throngs with ease, grabbing a flute of champagne off a passing servant's tray. Once I reached the opposite end of the vast ballroom, I secured a spot against the cool wall, which quickly chilled my bare shoulders. Taking a greedy sip, I closed my eyes; simultaneously enjoying the melody of cheerful, human sounds and the champagne bubbles that pricked my tongue.

"Evelyn?" My eyes shot open but I kept my existing attitude: back straight, legs crossed, glass firmly in hand. My dear brothers stood before me, eyes wide but wary, and behind them, slowly but surely, a few of the staircase dwellers–presumably the Mikaelsons–appeared.

"Hello brothers," I greeted, raising my glass before them as if to 'cheers' their presence before taking another sip. "Still lurking about Mystic Falls, are you?" They turned to each other, then back to me as if stunned; unsure if I was really and truly in front of them. "I can see you're surprised; that I'm here…that I'm a _vampire_. I can't say the same about myself, you two have made our family name quite infamous." Stefan searched my face, looking for something he wasn't going to find.

"You knew about us…about what we are," Stefan stated, dumbfounded. Damon merely stood beside him, taking in whatever _this_ was. There missing sister was alive, or undead rather, and yet she stood before them entirely unfazed, entirely aware that they were undead as well. I assumed it was all tragically heartbreaking but I felt just fine, peachy really.

"Both of you are too transparent, I can read your faces like open books. You're wondering why your beloved sister never came looking for you. Why she never bothered to make herself known." I pushed myself off the wall, coming ever so close to the pair. "It's because, frankly, sweethearts," I placed my hand on Stefan's rigid cheek, looking him straight in the eye. "I really didn't care." I grinned at him, removing my hand, then looked to Damon who was being uncharacteristically quiet. The few Mikaelsons still surrounded us, intrigued by our dialogue but silent as well. I drained my glass of champagne, then moved to leave but was instantly pulled back by Stefan.

"Your humanity's off," he declared. Damon looked from me to Stefan and back again but still refused to say a word.

"Good job Stefan," I patted his arm, my voice drenched in sarcasm. "Still so very bright, aren't you?" I shoved him aside and began to walk away, only to be forced against the wall by both him _and _Damon. At last, a Mikaelson intervened; the one with the golden hair and dark lips.

"As amusing as this all is–and it _really_ is–I'm afraid you'll have to solve your messy familial issues elsewhere." His thick British accent was paired with a slight lisp and he spoke as if he meant to concurrently charm and offend.

"Our family has issues? Until a few days ago most of yours had daggers through their hearts…because of _you_," Damon–_finally_–spoke. The blond Mikaelson's smug little smirk disappeared in an instant, replaced by a fed-up, broody grimace.

"No Damon, he's right. The two of you are…" I removed their hands from my shoulders. "…making quite the scene at their little party." This time, when I sashayed off, no one stopped me. In a matter of moments, however, my brothers and the blond began to trail behind. It seemed that the rest of the Mikaelsons had other matters to attend to or had simply lost interest, for they did not. I continued to walk about the room lazily; their presence was hardly concerning but a tad irritating. "Are you going to follow me around all night?"

"Are you going to cause problems?" Damon shot back. Evidently, the shock of seeing me was wearing off, enabling him to utilize his voice. Without looking behind me, I turned the corner–entering a dim, empty corridor–then spun around to face my three shadows.

"I came here to consume as much liquor as possible and snack on every human drunk or stupid enough to be pulled away from the festivities. Not to take a stroll down memory lane or to be babysat by my brothers and their cute but irrelevant friend." The man raised his eyebrows at that, but didn't interrupt. "Obviously, the sight of you two had absolutely no effect on me. I have no desire to turn on my humanity and neither of you will attempt to change that, understand?"

"How long have you had your humanity off?" A contemplating Stefan slowly stepped towards me, looking as if his sixth sense was telling him something I wasn't.

"Stefan?" A shadow appeared at the mouth of the hallway. "Stefan, is that you?" In a second, the woman was in my arms, her pulse near my lips. Her brown hair was swept to one side, giving me easy access to her neck and though I couldn't see her face, I could tell she was beautiful.

"Who's this Stefan? Your girlfriend?" Stefan was visibly tense; alarmed. Yet so was Damon. "Or is she Damon's girlfriend? Maybe both of yours? I hear you two like to share women." I brought her towards the end of the hallway, to the square of moonlight courtesy of the window. "See, I don't like to share. When I start…I just can't seem to stop." Stefan's eyes widened with realization. "You guessed it brother," I lowered my voice to a whisper. "I'm a _Ripper_. Just like you. We got it from our mother you know? Except I have a little more self-control…but there's nothing like tearing someone to pieces after a good meal…dinner _and _a show."

I tightened my grip, forcing a wince out of her, causing not only my brothers but the Mikaelson to shift as if about to mediate.

"Oh my, are you fighting for her love as well?" I questioned the Mikaelson, studying him carefully. "No…it's something else." I grabbed the woman's hair, turning her head towards me. "Is this…a _doppelganger_? I've never tasted a doppelganger before…I bet she's delicious." I brought my lips closer to her neck. "But I'll make you deal," I spoke gently. "If you, my sweet brothers, leave me be I'll spare your girl and–_after_–I get my fill, I'll leave your precious town."

Stefan and Damon stood there; silent. They looked at one another, then both turned to the Mikaelson. One moment I was watching the blond give an almost imperceptible nod of the head, the next I was in his arms and the doppelganger was in my brothers'. Startled and swiftly livid, I began to thrash and squirm and push my way out of his hold but he wouldn't budge. He grabbed my jaw with his free hand and brought my face towards him. My eyes were instantaneously caught in his; it was as if our pupils were attached as I was entirely incapable of turning away.

"Turn on your humanity," he compelled.

My heart stopped. I began gasping for air; unable to breathe, unable to move, unable to think. Hot tears blurred my vision, I could feel them running down my neck, down my chest. Then, I couldn't feel my body at all. I fell in his arms; my limbs like jelly, his like solid concrete.

"Oh my God," I began to pant. "Oh my God…" It was as if I had turned on some internal light, revealing all that hid in the darkest parts of myself. It was not gradual, it was not progressive: a second before I had felt nothing, then, I felt _everything_.

* * *

**Thank you everyone for the support! **


	4. Scenic

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries or any of its characters (the CW does as does L. J. Smith). **

* * *

Chapter 3: Scenic

_Previously..._

_"Turn on your humanity," he compelled._

_My heart stopped. I began gasping for air; unable to breathe, unable to move, unable to think. Hot tears blurred my vision, I could feel them running down my neck, down my chest. Then, I couldn't feel my body at all. I fell in his arms; my limbs like jelly, his like solid concrete._

_"Oh my God," I began to pant. "Oh my God…" It was as if I had turned on some internal light, revealing all that hid in the darkest parts of myself. It was not gradual, it was not progressive: a second before I had felt nothing, then, I felt _everything.

* * *

Diluted evening light flooded the spacious room, bouncing off the various panels of dark wood. I had been staring at the same patterned rug for hours; my body unmoving, my mind awake and screaming bloody murder. Of all the terrible emotions swimming through my veins and eating at my heart, regret was the most dominant and vicious. Though I could hear Damon behind me, fingering the curtains he had just pulled away from the window, I didn't push myself to move. After a moment, he sat down, the bed shifting under his weight just as my arm did when he rested his hand on my shoulder. The small gesture lead my heart to dispense feelings far more pleasant than their predecessors: the satisfaction that came with being touched tenderly, the love for a brother who–despite the years that had passed–was no stranger to me.

"Evelyn you have to get up." His voice was gentle and he spoke slowly as if he was scared that I would crumble beneath his fingertips. "You've been in bed all night, all morning…all afternoon." He paused for a few minutes, stroking my arm in silence. "I'm not asking you to jump out of bed and get over it, I just think you should eat something." Though the hours had gone by agonizingly slow and my stomach ached with hunger, I hadn't realized that almost an entire day had gone by. Figuring that nothing could make me feel any worse, especially food, I pulled myself out of the bed and turned to face Damon who offered a small, sympathetic smile.

I tugged at the shirt I was wearing–one of Damon's dark V-necks–and raised my eyebrows in silent questioning. Damon's eyes widened with realization and he reached behind him quickly, producing a neatly folded pile of clothing.

"They're Elena's," he added as he handed it to me, and with that, he left.

After about ten minutes' work, I looked somewhat presentable: my slept on hair was thrown into a ponytail and the previous night's makeup was washed off and replaced. Elena's clothes, though a bit small, did fit; her dark denim jeans clung to my skin as did her navy short sleeve top. While I felt physically refreshed, my insides were still saturated with dread and my mind plagued with immeasurable guilt. Nevertheless, I managed to put one foot in front of the other and forced myself both out of the room and down the stairs. With each hesitant step I took, my brothers' voices got louder; by the sounds of it, they were having a rather tense conversation, one in which–with my vampire hearing–I could have easily eavesdropped on. However, deciding it was best not to intrude and that I really didn't want to go downstairs to begin with, I began backtracking, happy to go back to bed. It wasn't until I had made it all the way to the top stair that a vaguely familiar voice–familiar enough to pique my interest–made a sudden guest appearance.

"You want us to kill them." It was Stefan. He didn't sound stressed or upset, just curious, surprised even.

"You know, I'd do it myself but I have absolutely no idea where they are." There was that voice again: eerily calm, entirely commanding. "Besides seeing me they'd…" A pause; utter silence. I put my hand to my ear, listening to see if I was missing any hushed dialogue. "I'm sure you two are aware that there is another person in your house," he stated evenly.

"Evelyn," Damon called. "Go back upstairs."

But I didn't. I marched back down and into the foyer to find my brothers standing beside each other and in front of the man, who sat comfortably in a red armchair. I instantly recognized his structured face and perfectly styled dark hair; he was the man who spoke on the staircase, who saved me from the embarrassment I wasn't able feel. He was a Mikaelson.

Before I could take another step forward, both Stefan and Damon held me back, blocking my path with their bodies. While I appreciated their protection, I didn't need it, and gingerly removed their hands before continuing on my way. The man rose from his seat as I neared, his eyes watching me with playful curiosity, his previously stoic face shifting until some sort of amused smirk took form.

"Evelyn," I announced, putting out my hand for him to shake. He took it; his grip firm, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Elijah."

I drew my hand away and sat down on the chair opposite to the one he had just been sitting on.

"Please, continue," I insisted, crossing one leg over the other, feigning unmitigated confidence. Based on Stefan and Damon's body language, I was supposed to be scared of this gentleman and seeing as he was a Mikaelson, it made complete sense. But my curiosity strangled any fear that I felt and this aching need to function normally once again, to control my emotions and participate in life, conquered all. It was oddly sensational to feel curious and excited, to wonder and fear, to want to help and discover.

"You have until six minutes after nine to find them." Elijah's voice pulled me from my thoughts. He was staring my brothers down; still standing, still calm. "If you do not stop her before then, Rebekah will kill Elena." He moved closer to Damon and Stefan. "I suggest you get started." Then, he walked steadily out the front door–but not before looking over his shoulder at me.

* * *

Four Bourbons and two blood bags later, Damon finally managed to formulate some kind of plan to save Elena. Of course his initial idea was to simply kill one witch, who was connected to someone named Esther. Esther so happened to be both the mother and soon-to-be murderer of Elijah and his siblings. While I was still fuzzy on the details, Stefan made it clear that killing the witch–Bonnie–was not an option.

"So, Elijah is a good guy then?" I asked.

"No," Stefan replied while Damon simply shook his head.

"But you're saving him…and his family?"

"I think you forgot the part about them killing Elena if we don't," Damon shot back. Clearly, he was too distressed to continue treating me like I was breakable.

"So if they didn't have Elena, we'd be…_happy_? That they were…you know…getting killed?" I rubbed my temples, still trying to determine who was an ally and who was an enemy. So far Elena and Bonnie were friends and the Mikaelsons–including Esther–were foes.

"We'd be so very happy," Damon agreed, pouring himself another drink. I stood, grabbed the dagger from the coffee table, and examined it carefully.

"So, if you stick _this_," I traced the blade with my finger, "into _one_ of them, you kill them _all_?"

"Something like that." Damon snatched it out of my hands.

"I want to do it." And I did. I craved to be useful; to help my brothers; to save a human's life instead of take it.

"Yeah, that's not happening. Even if a vampire could dagger an Original without _dying_, you would not be the one pulling the trigger, so to speak," Damon said, sticking the dagger in his back pocket as if to make his point.

"So what do you plan on doing? Compelling someone to do your dirty work for you?" It was an honest question but my tone was hostile; Damon was protective to a fault and always had been.

"No, lucky for us, our good pal Alaric doesn't need to be compelled into doing crazy, dangerous things…sometimes, he just does them. Actually, he's already at the Mystic Grill spying on Klaus and Kol…" The rest of Damon's words went in one ear and out the other; for some reason, something he said hit a nerve. Mystic Grill. The. Mystic. Grill.

"Oh God," I spewed; mortified. In less than a second and without an explanation, I sped out of both the room and house. But not before grabbing one of Damon's giant shirts.

* * *

Unlike the night of the Mikaelson Ball, the Mystic Grill was hopping with people: eating, chatting, drinking–excessively. And, as luck would have it, I had hardly even stepped into the building when I took notice of two barflies take notice of me. One of them instantly struck me as the blond Mikaelson who had compelled me to feel again, while the other was–presumably–his brother. Klaus and Kol; the two that Alaric, according to Damon, was spying on. While their faces were quite similar, with them being related and all, the expressions they wore were endlessly different. The dark haired fellow reeked of mischief; the smile he gave me was equally flirtatious and wicked and his eyes, which sparkled in the light, never left me despite the fact he began whispering something to his brother. The blond, on the other hand, seemed to take no interest in the conversation as he continued to stare at me intensely, his lips slightly parted in…awe?

Suddenly self-conscious and very aware I was getting distracted, without a second look, I made a beeline for the women's restroom. It was empty. I shoved open each and every stall just to make sure and–thank God–there was not a soul in sight. An extraordinary sense of relief settled within me and I took a huge breath I didn't know I was holding. The woman I compelled was gone–someone had helped her. The previous night had become a blur, featuring booze and overwhelming emotions, and ending with me passed out in blond Mikaelson's arms. I'd forgotten all about the poor girl I'd left standing in her underwear, in public washroom, and couldn't, for the life of me, remember if I had compelled her to stay there. I couldn't help but think that she was still in the stall, half-naked and helpless. Pleased with the outcome, I placed Damon's shirt on the counter (in case someone else found themselves lacking clothing) and exited the washroom smiling.

While the Mikaelsons were still present, my sour mood was long gone, replaced by a celebratory one. So, plastering on a confident smirk, I strode over to the bar both terrified and exhilarated. I only managed to down one shot of vodka before being approached by the Original duo.

"Hello there," the blond spoke, giving me a breathtaking smile. "Evelyn, is it?" His question was not so much a question as it was part of his not-so-subtle pickup line. I didn't respond, leading him to look down into his cup unsurely for a moment before recapturing my gaze. "Join us for a drink?" His brother raised his glass at that and wore a sly smile, but said nothing; for some reason letting his brother take the reins on this one.

I held up a finger at them, indicating that they would have to give me a second, then took another shot of alcohol. They quickly shifted from being confused to highly entertained; smiling at each other as if pleased that they had successfully won my attention. I gestured for the bartender, quickly compelling him to give me a bottle of tequila, then turned toward the boys who had continued to watch me diligently.

"Sure." They seemed immensely pleased. "But why don't you two take me somewhere a little more…_scenic_?" The blond let out an amused breath paired with another one of his award-winning smiles, while his brother did the gesture synonymous with 'ladies first'.

I strolled away, the men trailing behind me, stealthily pulling my cellphone out of the front pocket of my jeans. Before they caught up to me, I quickly sent a brief text to Damon:

_I've got Klaus and Kol occupied. You're welcome._

* * *

**Thank you everyone for following and favouriting this story! Don't forget to review and tell me what you think! **


	5. Moonlight

Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries or any of its characters (the CW does as does L. J. Smith).

* * *

Chapter 4: Moonlight

_Previously..._

_"Hello there," the blond spoke, giving me a breathtaking smile. "Evelyn, is it?" His question was not so much a question as it was part of his not-so-subtle pickup line. I didn't respond, leading him to look down into his cup unsurely for a moment before recapturing my gaze. "Join us for a drink?" His brother raised his glass at that and wore a sly smile, but said nothing; for some reason letting his brother take the reins on this one._

_I held up a finger at them, indicating that they would have to give me a second, then took another shot of alcohol. They quickly shifted from being confused to highly entertained; smiling at each other as if pleased that they had successfully won my attention. I gestured for the bartender, quickly compelling him to give me a bottle of tequila, then turned toward the boys who had continued to watch me diligently._

_"Sure." They seemed immensely pleased. "But why don't you two take me somewhere a little more…scenic?" The blond let out an amused breath paired with another one of his award-winning smiles, while his brother did the gesture synonymous with 'ladies first'._

_I strolled away, the men trailing behind me, stealthily pulling my cellphone out of the front pocket of my jeans. Before they caught up to me, I quickly sent a brief text to Damon:_

_I've got Klaus and Kol occupied. You're welcome._

* * *

I played with the knob until generic pop music fed through the speakers, then cranked the volume up so that each word could be heard and the bass could be felt. As soon as I was familiar with the melody I hummed along, watching the trees meld into one another through the car window. The moon was full, its light cold but vibrant; illuminating the night sky as if it were a fluorescent light bulb. I could feel it on my skin, feel it playing with my face, making my fair tone shine like one of the billions of stars I was admiring. I smiled at the thought, enchanted by the moment but still wary of the company I shared it with.

"You're quite cheery for someone who just reactivated their moral compass, aren't you?" His tone was playful and his lisp tinged the words in the most delightful way. He had his hands firm on the wheel and his eyes on the empty road before him. But he had been looking at me. I'd felt it. He'd look often but never for long. I wondered if he'd noticed the moonlight too and how it had a way of making things subtly brighter.

Based on his cheeky demeanor, I had pegged Kol as the relentless flirt, surprised to learn that I'd guessed wrong. Kol, who had chosen to sit in the backseat, remained silent. Klaus, on the other hand, had taken a jab at light conversation numerous times. I kept our dialogue pleasant, aware of my goal. Aware that I had to keep him pleased for my brothers, for Elena and for my own safety. I tried to imagine the witty man at the ball; the hesitant guy at the bar; the keen conversationalist in the car, trying to harm me. I couldn't. But I'd been told the stories, heard the rumors and trusted my brothers judgement... I had to. A thousand years is ample time to develop a kind façade, one that could hide the likes of a manipulative murderer.

"I meant to thank you for that, by the way," my voice came out soft and almost serious, but I slipped on a smile to ensure him my statement was good-natured. I was too exhausted–by everything–to play the enthusiastic flirt that bantered energetically. Not to mention Kol had taken my liquid courage, the tequila, for himself. So, I settled for the most authentic version of myself, hoping that would be enough to amuse him for at least an hour.

I looked over at him, surprised he hadn't defended himself yet–even in jest. He was looking between the road and me, seemingly deciding what to say.

"Well, you were putting quite the damper on my 'little party'," he remarked, feeding me back the words I'd used to describe the ball the previous night. I let out an amused breath but said nothing in my defense. He tore his eyes from the road once more to examine me, as if deciding whether to say something more. "How long was it off for?"

It was my turn to examine him. What angle was he playing at? How could he come across so genuine? How many hundreds of years had it taken him to make it seem like he truly cared about anyone other than himself? How many girls had fallen for his act?

I could not be one of them. I refused.

"For about as long as I've been a vampire," I admitted, my words suggesting openness, though inside I had closed myself off.

My words surprised him. I was sure they surprised Kol as well because I could hear him shift around behind me. Surprised or not, the both of them remained silent, and not a second later, Klaus pulled over to the side of the road, putting the car in park.

Before I had the chance to ask where he'd taken us, my car door was being opened for me. I looked to Klaus' outstretched hand that waited to help me out, and something in my chest clenched. I made the mistake of looking up into his dark eyes, which searched my face as if attempting read my expression. Giving into him, I took his hand, letting him help me to my feet, hating myself for loving his touch. I told myself it was my heightened emotions. The ones that had been turned off for way too long.

"Where's your brother?" I'd lost one of them. Damn.

"Finishing off that bottle somewhere, I'm sure." As he spoke, he kept his gaze on me, completely unconcerned about the whereabouts of his brother. Leading me to believe that he had had something to do with his sudden absence.

For some reason Kol, though ever silent, acted as some kind of buffer; making it easier to be with Klaus...less intense...less intimate. I tore my hand away from his, making him flinch in surprise, and walked ahead to examine our whereabouts.

The darkness stole the color from the pine needles of hundreds of trees, but their distinct scent hung in the air. I could hear the heavy sound of rushing water, though I had yet to discover any. Here, the stars were brighter than they'd been during the drive; allowed to shine on the darkest of canvases. And the moon joined in on their fun, emitting a milky haze that seemed to combat the black night.

"Steven's Quarry," he whispered, knowing I could hear him. Knowing that I could feel him behind me. Knowing that the exact moment the words left his mouth, my breath hitched. It seemed that he had lived long enough to know everything, which led me to wonder whether he knew the night between us was a ruse. That he knew the plan and had one of his own.

I had no idea who I was dealing with. And I was terrified. So I ran.

Using my vampire speed, I pushed forward as fast as I could, until I met an obstacle too big to avoid: the quarry itself. A healthy waterfall filled the pit with water, that of which resembled oil in the thick darkness–leaving me trapped. So I sat on the uneven rock beneath my feet, my legs hanging over the water below, and waited. Klaus was next to me before I could even blink, then he too sat down, close enough that our shoulders were centimeters apart. I refused to turn my head toward him–in fear that our faces would come to close too one another–but I couldn't help but wonder what a thousand year old vampire looked like, perched on the edge of a cliff.

"What made you turn it off?" His words practically forced me to look over at him, to merely study his face so I could understand his motive for wanting to know me. But I was right, our faces were too close; so much so that I could feel his breath on my lips and see each individual eyelash. I turned away. He did not.

"Why are you here with me? Why did you care enough to drive me to this place?" I wanted to know, I truly did. I regretted a lot of things in that moment of time, but not my questions. He didn't speak right away, but when he did, his voice was slow and even, as if he wanted me to catch every word.

"Last night, when your humanity came back on, you...fell into me–into my arms. You just stayed there, limp in my hands, crying and mumbling things I couldn't understand. Your brothers tried to take you away but you...you wouldn't let go, you held on so tightly. I don't know if you remember..." He paused and took in a deep breath before continuing. "Then you walked into the bar today and I was...curious. You looked happy. You smiled and spoke as if your world hadn't just fallen apart. And then you sat in my car, trusting the last man that you should; humming...staring at the moon and...it fascinated me. You fascinated me. You've had no humanity for decades, yet after everything you've done, you still have this innocent nature...this purity of heart."

When he finished, I couldn't help but sit in awe of his words. I felt completely and utterly conflicted and...disgusted with myself. I wasn't innocent or pure...I was distracting a man so that Alaric could stick a dagger into one of his brothers. But Klaus wasn't a man. He was a hybrid. One who had caused pain and anguish. One who had killed. One who had held me when I cried and fed me beautiful words under the stars.

_No_. I had to stay strong. I could not be swayed by him or his words, no matter how beautiful both were. So, in order to keep the conversation flowing, I decided it was my turn to share.

"When my mother died–" Klaus stood abruptly, stopping me mid-sentence. He clenched his chest, a look of confusion etching its way onto his face. I got to my feet, a feeling of unease building in my stomach. They'd put a dagger in Elijah–I was sure of it–and for some reason Klaus could...feel it. Klaus drew his eyes from his chest to me slowly, realization coloring his eyes. In a moment, he had me pushed against the nearest tree, his grip tight around my upper arms.

"What have you done!" He yelled, jerking me as if he could shake the answer from my lips. "Answer me!" He was angry, but I could tell he was hurt more than anything. His eyes were wide as though preparing for tears he had trained to never appear.

"How satisfying it is to know that everyone was right about you." I tried to wriggle out of his hold but it only made him hold on tighter. "How quickly you switch from a compassionate man capable of weaving together beautiful compliments, to a violent maniac. How many years did it take to create that side of you? The one that makes you seem kind and gentle and poetic." My words were quick and venomous; my voice hoarse and rough, sounding somewhat primal. My own shame made me defensive but it was his disappointment that made me angry. Angry at myself. Angry at him for thinking so highly of me and treating me so lowly when he no longer did.

He stared at me for a few moments. His expression was unreadable but I was sure he was deciding whether or not to kill me. There was no reason to keep me alive. I was nothing to him; just a stranger that betrayed what little trust he'd given me. I closed my eyes, awaiting his next move.

Before I even had the chance to open them, I knew he was gone. He'd left me, alive and alone, without even a scratch to commemorate my dishonesty.

Head heavy and eyes wet with tears I didn't know I was crying, I sat down, my back against the tree, and stared at the now cloud-covered moon. I fished my pocket for my phone and pulled it out to find I had a dozen messages and numerous missed calls from Damon. The most recent read:

_We've got Elijah. Be careful Evelyn, Klaus is dangerous. You are not safe._

If he only knew...

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**Thank you everyone that continued to read, favorite and follow this story. Your continual support inspired me to keep writing Evelyn!**


	6. Found

Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries or any of its characters (the CW does, as does L. J. Smith)

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Chapter 5: Found

_Previously..._

_He stared at me for a few moments. His expression was unreadable but I was sure he was deciding whether or not to kill me. There was no reason to keep me alive. I was nothing to him; just a stranger that betrayed what little trust he'd given me. I closed my eyes, awaiting his next move. _

_Before I even had the chance to open them, I knew he was gone. He'd left me, alive and alone, without even a scratch to commemorate my dishonesty. _

_Head heavy and eyes wet with tears I didn't know I was crying, I sat down, my back against the tree, and stared at the now cloud-covered moon. I fished my pocket for my phone and pulled it out to find I had a dozen messages and numerous missed calls from Damon. The most recent read:_

_We've got Elijah. Be careful Evelyn, Klaus is dangerous. You are not safe. _

_If he only knew... _

* * *

"I'm coming back. I promise."

"Where are you? I'm coming to get you," he insisted. He was angry–I was sure of it. His tone was too contrived–too low and definitely too soft. He spoke as if his words had been carefully picked, as if he'd been waiting to say them to me. He probably had. I hadn't answered any of his texts or calls, despite the fact he'd tried to get a hold of me all night and all morning. Now that I'd finally answered, he wasn't going to risk losing me again, not before I divulged my whereabouts. Thus, he was attempting to mask his anger with concern, concern I didn't doubt he felt but knew came with irritation, among other things.

"Damon, I promise," I insisted right back, ending the call on my last syllable. I _was_ going back. Just very…slowly. I wanted time to think, to re-evaluate and to maybe cry just a little bit more. Not that I hadn't sat at that tree and cried all night–I had. I'd cried over Klaus, a man I hardly knew but had already betrayed. I'd cried because I didn't even know if I'd acted out of character. I didn't know if lying and deceiving were things I condoned, or if I'd gone against my own moral code. And I'd cried because I'd been an emotionless vampire most of my life, and though I'd been alive for decades I didn't even know who I was or what I stood for.

I'd lived–_really_ lived–for eighteen years. It had taken me those eighteen years to _begin_ to understand myself and the world I was so sure I knew. Everything changed when I transitioned. It was hard, but it wasn't impossible. I could have gotten used to a life featuring vampires and witches and werewolves and ghosts and curses and–and I _was_ getting used to it. I was getting used to it until I turned off my humanity. Until the hours and days and weeks and years were merely tied together by blood and feeding and ripping.

Now that I'd been given back the life I'd barely started–the person I'd barely begun to shape–I didn't know what to do. I'd jumped right back into life without even thinking. I'd gotten myself in the middle of a fight I didn't even understand. With people I didn't even know–_dangerous_ people. I'd been impulsive.

Impulsive.

Maybe I was impulsive. Maybe that was part of who I was. Maybe that was something that I'd always been. I tried to think back to human Evelyn–_what had I been like?_ I knew I'd been good. Or tried to be good. That I'd listened to my parents, that I was scared–scared of my father. I did what he said. I did what my mother said, even when she…when…I did what she said. Always. I obeyed my grandparents, my neighbours, my teachers, Damon.

Tears. The tears were back: fresh and hot.

I'd always obeyed. I'd always done what others had told me to do. Had told me was _right_. I wasn't even myself as a human, I was what others wanted me to be.

Klaus had said I was pure–that my heart was pure. That I was innocent. He was wrong. I was nothing. Blood had stained my pure heart years ago. I'd torn off too many heads to be innocent. He said I hadn't fallen apart, but I _had_. That I'd sat in his car trusting him, but I _hadn't_. Everything that _intrigued_ him was a lie. He didn't kill me because he thought I had some sort of small worth.

But I was worthless.

A car was coming. I could hear the wind fighting its steel body; the tires sliding against the paved road; the music pushing against the windows in an attempt to escape. With a groan, it stopped right beside me, the driver's window disappearing as the man inside stuck his head out.

"Hey sweetheart, you need a ride?" I kept walking. I wasn't scared of a middle-aged man comfortable with hitting on a teenage girl. Though if I was human I'm sure I would have been. I was scared because I hadn't eaten. At all. Since before the Mikaelson's dance. And I could hear his heartbeat, the blood travelling through him like a freight train to feed his body. _Feed_. I could feel my eyes twitch as they changed colour, the veins rise uncomfortably across my cheeks and my fangs graze my lower lip. "Oh come on now, I won't bite."

I turned toward him, not even attempting to hide my appearance, and sped to the open window. Grabbing his wrist–feeling his rapid pulse beneath my fingertips–I watched fear take hold of his face. The way it made his eyes glaze over in panic and pulled his mouth open in a silent scream. Reining in my intense hunger and sick desire to break that round, scruffy face in half, I quickly compelled him.

"Drive away," I managed, my voice stiff and hoarse. He sat there, unmoving, and stared up at me. "Now!"

He was gone with a screech but my hunger stayed with me. My face pulsed with need–the need for food. For blood. I pulled my cellphone from Elena's jeans, ripping a pocket in the process, and dialed Damon's number with trembling hands. It rang twice.

"Come get me. Please."

* * *

I watched the afternoon light cook the pavement from my spot against one of the trees that lined the road. I was right, Damon was mad–for many reasons apparently. Reasons he ensured me he would outline the moment I was in his car. Thankfully, Stefan was completely ignorant of the previous night's events. Damon never told him that I'd interacted with Klaus or Kol, or that I'd been 'missing' for hours on end. As far as he knew, I was still moping around Mystic Falls and–according to Damon–would phone him as soon as I felt like talking. So, being his noble self, he was respecting my boundaries and waiting for my call. Damon, as I'd always known, was not one for respecting boundaries.

When I saw his car rush down the street, however, I couldn't find it in myself to care. I ran to the passenger door before he even came to a complete stop, yanking it open with an audible sigh. I was admiring my saviour's face, which was unsurprisingly distorted with both exasperation and relief, when I was thrown a blood bag. I didn't hesitate. Ripping the plastic with my teeth, I began to slurp its contents, using my hand to squeeze out every ounce. I could faintly hear Damon say something along the lines of 'we need to talk' as the thick liquid slid down my throat, but I didn't stop to answer him. I couldn't. Just as I couldn't stop myself from ripping the empty bag in two the moment I finished.

Damon's widened eyes went from my mouth, iced with blood; to my dripping neck; to my red hands, each holding a mangled piece of thin plastic.

"I think we need to put you on a bunny diet."

My arms fell, hanging limply at my sides, as realization took hunger's place at the center of my mind. _This_ was what I was. A bloody, uncontrollable mess, defined by nothing but an eternally unsated appetite. I'd wanted so badly to find the true Evelyn. Well, I'd found her.

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**I know its been a while! Thanks for continuing to favourite and follow. I'd love for you to review and let me know your thoughts, opinions and ideas! Hopefully the next chapter will be up much sooner! Xoxo**


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